Him, like the working bee in blossom-dust,
Blanch’d with his mill, they found; and saying to him
‘Come with us father Philip’ he denied;
But when the children pluck’d at him to go,
He laugh’d and yielded readily to their wish, 370
For was not Annie with them? and they went.
But after scaling half the weary down,
Just where the prone edge of the wood began
To feather toward the hollow, all her force
Fail’d her; and sighing ‘Let me rest’ she said; 375